Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from South Sudan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Heavy D & The Boyz to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Marmalade,
Davy DMX,
Grauzone,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Avey Tare,
Brass Construction,
Chris Corsano,
X-Ray Spex,
Tears for Fears,
Colin Newman,
The Selecter,
the Bar-Kays,
Judy Mowatt,
Procol Harum,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Martian,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jerry's Kids,
Idris Muhammad,
Hot Snakes,
Sex Pistols,
Crispy Ambulance,
Arcadia,
Quantec,
The Beau Brummels,
Quadrant,
Pantytec,
The Moody Blues,
Fluxion,
Joe Finger,
Mission of Burma,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The J.B.'s,
Youth Brigade,
Technova,
Oneida,
The Gories,
Charles Mingus,
Sandy B,
Fear,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Bananas,
Carl Craig,
The Walker Brothers,
Freddie Wadling,
Nation of Ulysses,
X-101,
Isaac Hayes,
The Raincoats,
ABBA,
June Days,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Index,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Danielle Patucci,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Joe Smooth,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.